When I Die, You Stay Away From My Funeral
by BabySmitty
Summary: Squidward gets a devious idea for a prank, but when it goes too far, Spongebob vows to never speak to him again.


When I Die, You Stay Away From My Funeral

Squidward tapped his foot on the floor by the register, sighing with boredom. Not a customer in sight. Behind him, the little yellow idiot did a dumb little jig and sang to himself softly. His giggles, his squeaky shoes, his nasally high-pitched voice… Squidward had had enough.  
"Don't you ever take a day off?!" he yelled at Spongebob, who looked up, surprised.  
"Hm? Not really," he said, no longer dancing. "I haven't taken a day off since… hmm… few years ago? When I had the suds, remember that?"  
He went back to dancing and humming to himself. His shoes squeaked on the floor boards. Squidward glared at him? "The suds? What nonsense is that? Sounds like a dime-store dishwashing detergent."  
Spongebob stopped dancing again. "Oh no, Squidward, the suds is a very serious illness to a sponge," he said. "Fortunately I had it when I was young. It gets bad if you're older." He sighed. "My dear grammy-maw was in the hospital with the suds last year." He grinned. "Fortunately, she got better!" He let out a loud laugh. "I love my gramma so much!"  
He went back to dancing- he grabbed two pickles and squeaked them together as he jigged his little jig.  
The cephalopod thought for a moment. "And… how does a sponge "catch" the suds?" he asked.  
The sponge stopped dancing again. "You have to get really cold," he said. "I caught it when I fell asleep in front of my open freezer." The little doof began dancing yet again, singing to himself in that infuriating nasal way.  
An evil grin crept onto Squidward's face.  
"Hey… Spongebob, I saw a mess earlier that you should clean up," he said. "Better get moving quickly, before any customers show up."  
Spongebob sprang up. "Where is it, Squiddie?" he asked eagerly. "I love cleaning things!"  
"I know you do." Squidward got up and walked into the back room. He pointed to the freezer. "In here?" asked Spongebob. The octopus opened the door, and Spongebob crept inside. "I don't see any-"  
"KLANG!" Squidward slammed the freezer door shut.  
"Squidward? Squidward?! SQUIDWARD!" Spongebob yelled, banging on the door with his fists. His fists were soft and barely made a sound. "I'm trapped! Help me! Squidward, please!"  
Squidward laughed his honky laugh and slumped back over to the register. "That should get him out of my hair for a while!"  
He sat down at the register and picked up a magazine. "Ah, nice and quiet."  
"Squidward, just the man I wanted to see!" said Mr Krabs, as he walked into the room. "I want you to… hey, where'd little Sponge go?"  
"I don't know," said Squidward with a sly little shrug. "Maybe he's in the bathroom, maybe he left for the day." He picked up his magazine again. "Not my problem."  
Krabs didn't think much of it- Spongebob could be infuratingly eccentric, he'd just scold the little guy when he came back. Hours passed. By the time Squidward clocked out, he'd totally forgotten about Spongebob.

Two days later, Spongebob was nowhere to be found. Mr Krabs took up the responsibility of cooking the patties. Patties were running low. When there was a shorter line, Krabs went over to the freezer to get out some frozen patties. Squidward drummed his tentacles on the counter and sighed to himself- suddenly, he heard a scream from the back.  
"Spongebob!" Mr Krabs yelled.  
"Spongebob?" Squidward said to himself. Where had he been? Squidward's eyes widened as he remembered what he'd done, and he broke out in a cold, guilty sweat. "Oh no... The freezer prank!"  
Mr Krabs rushed to the floor, carrying Spongebob. He was frighteningly blue. "Somebody, call an ambulance!" he cried.  
"K-Krabs..." Spongebob squeaked out, barely conscious. He coughed a couple times. It didn't sound good.  
"Hang on, me boy," said Mr Krabs, wrapping Spongebob in an old blanket.  
Squidward turned around nervously, covering his mouth. He burned with guilt, but he couldn't bare to look at what was happening, lest a sublte expression give him away.  
"What's going on?" "Spongebob?!" "Hey- little guy!" Customers craned their necks and tried to gather around.  
"Go on- give him some space, will ye?!" Krabs yelled.  
Outside, the ambulance wailed. Paramedics rushed in.  
"He locked himself in the freezer!" Krabs explained frantically.  
"Squid..id..ward..." Spongebob stuttered. He was shaking like a leaf.  
"Take it easy, fella," said a doctor, leading him out the door. Krabs followed. "Squidward, close up shop!" he shouted back to the cashier. The customers dispersed, and Squidward stood at the register in shock.  
Before getting led into the ambulance, Spongebob looked back at Squidward weakly. The door shut, and Squidward was alone.

Squidward sat in his armchair, trying to read- but he was too amxious. Was Spongebob okay? Was he dead already? Did anyone suspect that it was him?  
He was interrupted by a loud scraping noise, which persisted. He got up and walked outside, to find Patrick digging up his garden.  
"Patrick, what are you doing?!" Squidward demanded. "I just planted those!"  
"Oh... hey, Squidward," said Patrick with a little wave. "I'm bringing flowers to Spongebob. He's in the hospital. He's very sick."  
"Um..." Squidward cringed. "Oh... will he be ...okay?"  
"Yeah," said Patrick. "We thought he was a goner, but he'll be fine. We were all so worried..." He smiled. "Hey! Do you want to come with me to see him?"

Margaret and Harold Squarepants sat at their son's bedside. Harold was patting little Bobby on the hand, and Margaret was feeding him soup.  
"You'll be okay, son," Harold said gently.  
A nurse poked her head into the room. "Spongebob, you have some visitors," she said. "Would you like to see them?"  
"Oh, looks like you have some friends here," said Margaret, putting the soup down. Spongebob nodded.  
"Hey, buddy!" Patrick said happily, rushing into the room. He placed a big vase of flowers on the nightstand.  
"Hi Patrick," said Spongebob in a tiny voice. He was still very pale and sounded quite congested.  
"I'm glad to see you!" said Patrick. He reached over and hugged his friend tightly.  
"Ow...!" Spongebob squeaked.  
"Now, Patrick, be gentle!" said Margaret. "He just got through his second round of sponge treatment."  
"A couple more and he should be right as rain," said Harold. "But he needs to rest."  
"Oh... sorry, buddy," said Patrick gently. He rubbed Spongebob's head.  
Spongebob smiled a bit.  
"You know, Squidward is here to see you, too," Patrick said. "He was really worried."  
"Squidward..." Spongebob's eyes widened a little.  
"Yeah! Your pal Squidward!" said Patrick. Squidward stuck his head in the doorway and smiled sheepishly. There was a bit of an awkward silence.  
"Let me speak to him alone," said Spongebob softly.  
Margaret, Harold, and Patrick left, and bit hesitantly, and Squidward stepped in.  
"Close the door," Spongebob said. He coughed into his pasty fist several times, he sounded terrible. Little pink bubbles continuously drifted out of his pores as he coughed.  
Squidward complied, and approached his bedside. "Uh... hi, Spongebob, how-"  
"You listen here," said Spongebob, in a raspy, pointed voice. He grabbed Squidward's shirt collar tightly and dragged him over so he could look him in the eye. His tone was a sharp sort that Squidward didn't hear from him too often. "I almost died because of you. I'll be stuck here for at least another week. I have no idea when I'll be well enough to show up to work again. I NEVER miss work. I NEVER miss spending time with Patrick. I NEVER leave Gary alone for more than three days. You have crossed the line this time, Squidward. I won't tolerate any more from you. We may be neighbors and co-workers, but I no longer feel obligated to maintain our friendship. I am NEVER speaking to you again." He gave Squidward's collar a tight, chocking yank. "EVER."  
Spongebob glared at him, with pure hatred in his sunken, bloodshot eyes. A lump formed in Squidward's throat. Spongebob let go of him, coughed a half-dozen times, then weakly tried to shove him away.  
"Now get out," he whispered. He was too weak to do anything else- his head sunk into the pillow and he closed his eyes.  
Squidward slowly ebbed towards the door, and opened it. Margaret, Patrick, and Harold walked back in to join Spongebob, and Squidward left. He was too ashamed to look back.

Days passed. Krabs knew that Spongebob wouldn't be well enough to return to work for quite a while, so he temporarily hired a new fry cook, who needed the money for college. He was a young, slim fish in his early 20s or so, not too talkative. He just did his job and left, not making much small talk with anyone. Squidward tried to fill the void of Spongebob's absence by attempting to converse with the new guy, but he responded monosyllabicly and went on with his work. Squidward sighed. He'd give anything to hear Spongebob's grating dolphin giggling and squeaking shoes.  
At least a month passed before Spongebob returned to work, and even when he did, he clearly wasn't himself. He was subdued, fatigued, and pale.  
"Good to have you back, me boy!" said Krabs, giving Spongebob a pat on the back. Spongebob looked up at him and smiled weakly, then walked over to the grill to get to work. No singing, no laughing, just work. He cooked the patties, but it was as if he wasn't even there at all.  
"Uh, hey, Spongebob," said Squidward.  
Spongebob ignored him. He flipped the patties and glowered down at the grill.  
"How are you feeling?" Squidward asked. Spongebob continued to ignore him.  
Squidward sighed. He thought for a minute. "Spongebob..." He reached down to gently poke the little guy's head.  
Spongebob suddenly shot Squidward a terrifying death-glare and swatted his hand away... with the hot spatula. Squidward let out a startled yelp as the grease burned his skin.  
The kid glared at Squidward murderously for half a second, then went back to work nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. Squidward wiped his hand on his shirt and put a little bandage on it.  
"You're... really not talking to me anymore?" said Squidward.  
Spongebob didn't look up at him. He picked up his spatula and quickly flicked a drop of hot grease at him, then flipped a patty. The droplet landed on Squidward's forehead, and he winced in pain. He rubbed his forehead with his sleeve quickly, then turned around.  
The little guy had been pretty forgiving in the past, but Squidward slowly realized that his friend wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.  
Suddenly, three men in expensive-looking buisiness suits burst into the resturant, brandishing briefcases. "Squidward Tentacles? We're with the Marshall Island recording agency- we want to hire you and give you a contract."  
"If you sign, we will pay you handsomly," one of the agents said, opening the briefcase. Inside were huge stacks of bills.  
"What... what?! I.. this.. is this a joke?!" Squidward stammered.  
"On the contrary, your young friend over there was kind enough to send us various candid recordings of your marvelous music, including your clarinet playing, and singing," said one of the agents, who held up a laptop and showed it to Squidward. On the screen was a video of Squidward singing in the shower. In the video, he suddenly shrieked. "Spongebob! What are you doing in my bathroom! Gimme that camera!" A girly shriek from Spongebob was audible, then a crash, and the screen cut to static.  
Squidward gasped. No wonder Spongebob had been stalking him with that camera- he was recording his music and sending it to the record company!  
"Wow... I can't believe it!" said Squidward happily.  
"Looks like you won't be needing this, Mr Squidward!" said Krabs happily. "Congratulations. Just don't forget all about us when you're famous." He smiled warmly. Squidward's eyes welled up with tears.  
"Wow!" He turned around. "Spongebob, thank you! Thank you so much!..."  
Spongebob didn't look at him. "You're welcome," he muttered very softly.  
"Come on, Mr Tentacles, we have a lot of work to do," said an agent, who led Squidward out of the resturant. Squidward followed, in a daze. He turned around one last time, to see Spongebob at his grill. He didn't look at him.  
Squidward couldn't tell but he could have sworn that Spongebob was crying a bit.

Thirty Years Later...

"...an illustrious career that spanned three decades, five Golden Clarinet awards, donations to countless charities, and an Achievement of a Lifetime award..." Spongebob sat in front of the TV, sipping a cup of hot cocoa. Gary was napping nearby. "...but Squidward Tentacles will best be remembered for his most famous song, "I'm Sorry," which had garnered international acclaim from critics..." Spongebob flipped off the TV, and walked outside. He was 52, but being a sponge, a slow-aging species, he didn't look a day over thirty. Spongebob walked down to Jellyfish Fields and picked a large fistful of flowers. A small swarm of jellies buzzed over to him. "Not now, friends," said Spongebob gently. "I have to visit a friend." Spongebob walked down the street, singing to himself softly. "_Don't ever look back, on the world closing in,_ _be on the attack with your wings on the wind..." _He passed the old rusting gates and knelt down on the ground. He slowly placed the flowers on the earth before the shiny marble statue. "I forgive you, Squidward."


End file.
